The List
by tuuli-p
Summary: Tino is that perfect kid that just does everything right. He's got a picture-perfect life, poster child of everything right in the world. But he doesn't think so! Time to run far away, until his legs can't carry him. Along the way, he meets Berwald, the son of the family who takes him in when he nearly robs them blind. Friendship ensues. Maybe more.
1. Chapter 1

I didn't think about leaving home too often. I mean, I guess my family was decent, by my own standards. But considering those standards were abnormally low due to being raised by them, that didn't mean much.

So, here I was. Outside of my home, all my belongings that I cared about enough to take away stuffed into a suitcase that was frayed and falling apart. I could turn around right now, go back in the door, sneak back into my room, and act like I hadn't tried leaving the next morning at breakfast. But this was happening, it was already happening.

I am a good kid. I shouldn't want this. My whole life, I have been complimented my friends of the family, teachers at school, sometimes even just observant strangers in public. They'd talk about how I was so quiet and nice, how my manners were damn near perfect. I bet nobody would expect that me, perfect Tino Vainamoinen, would think for a moment about running away, let alone actually do it.

My feet started moving, and I didn't bother looking where I was going. I didn't look back either. I just kept my eyes forward. It was too dark to really see anything except for the ghostly shadows that marked the houses along this familiar street. _I could turn around right now. _But I'm not. _You could get caught. _But I won't! I'm leaving. That's it.

I was amused about how much I was fighting over this, now that I was walking away. I hadn't had any conflict at all when I was packing up my stuff, nor when I was sneaking out the door. The actual leaving of everything I knew was what was messing up my mind, I knew it. But I also knew this would be a temporary feeling. In the end, I would be happy I left.

No cars were on the road next to me. It was so quiet out here. The only thing that reached my ears were the small sounds my feet made when they hit the pavement. No teenagers were up late tonight and partying, no old men were up too late watching old shows too loud. Nothing. It seemed, to me, that the whole world was frozen and I was walking right past them. I guess that is what running away is supposed to feel like. I never knew anyone who had done it, so I never got to ask. But with the big mouth I have, I definitely would have if I did know someone. I'd ask them how it was supposed to feel. I don't like feeling new things much, because I never know if it is normal to feel them. I fear it. What I do not understand petrifies me.

But not enough to stop me, clearly, because I was turning off my street now. The street I rode my bike along as a child, the street I drove on for the first time I drove, the street I was determined to walk away from forever and ever, and never come back to again. The memories of this street wouldn't ever leave me, and that was all I needed from it.

I could still go back. I had the power to. But I also had the power to leave, and that was what I was doing. The house was gone, behind me now. I was off to find a new home anywhere else, no destination in mind. I just was... Going.

Never before have I ever done so much walking in my life, let alone this late, not this scared and this unsure of my destination. That didn't matter much, because even though I was afraid, I was smiling. My fears were only fears of being caught, I realized. I was not scared of being on my own, or leaving everything I knew and was familiar with. What I was doing made me happy. It wouldn't make my parents happy, and their wrath was what made me even think for a second this was a bad idea. The joke was on them though, their wrath was also most of the reason I was walking away from them right now! Thinking about it like this always made me so mad at them. They go on and on about how I'm so bad, then genuinely expect me to stay with them, and be happy. I could never be happy there, and pretending I was? It was an impossible task. I don't think I know what happiness is yet, but leaving was my only chance of finding out about happiness. Happiness sounds so nice. It sounds so hopeful, and I wanna feel hope too. I have a whole spectrum of emotions that I wanna feel.

My feet ached so much. Time passed really quick when you run away, I have discovered. Time was frozen when I was still on my street, and now that I was far enough away that I couldn't even identify where I was, it seemed to be speeding by. That realization hit my body the most, a sting in my legs, a burning in the arm that was holding up the suitcase. The sun was coming up, too. Maybe I should sleep. But looking around, I didn't find anything appropriate to sleep in. I didn't expect a bed like I got in the house, but I dunno. The forest floor didn't seem particularly attractive to me. So, I had to put up with walking for a little longer. Running away kinda stinks, only in how inconvenient it is. There should be some system that helps out kids trying to run away, a place that gave out shelter along the way. Or just someone who drops the poor soul off in a random place far away from home. I'm not asking for much, right? I just need out of that house. I'm not bad for wanting that. My parents don't deserve me, I don't deserve the treatment I get from them. Leaving is what I deserve, I deserve help in doing this. To make up for how crappy I got treated at home, all those years of being told I was wrong, the times I got told I only breathed to serve my parents like I was some slave. It was only fair I got help.

Before I knew it, I was fuming. Childishly so. Running away is not easy, and it wasn't like I didn't know that. Expecting help was so stupid. My pace picked up, fists clenched. I wasn't getting help, as much as I would like that. I was living the hard life of a runaway kid now, and I was still whining as if I had the privilege to whine. But whatever, my emotions didn't matter at the moment. What mattered was finding a place to lay down, maybe sleep if I was lucky. I probably wouldn't get much sleep at all though, my heart was racing, and my mind was alive with thoughts, worries, and just raw emotion in general. What could be expected when you leave everything behind.

The pace I got from my anger kept up until I found an abandoned old barn. The red paint was chipped to hell, and the structure in general was just rusty and decayed. Along my walk though, my standards plummeted. This would do quite well. The door was already open, which was good for me. It would have been rusted on otherwise I assumed, it looked as if I was the only human who had bothered to interact with this old place in quite awhile. It was dark in there, but the sun was peeking out now, so I could see in a little.

The hay on the floor was almost entirely mold, and the musty scent made my nose cringe involuntarily. The memory of a friend I had in grade school popped into my mind. He had really bad asthma, and he had a super bad asthma attack in his aunt's basement when he visited her, brought on by her basement, which was moldy as hell. He was in the hospital for three days I think, if I remember right. I have asthma too.

But all I could do was hope I didn't wind up having an attack. I totally dismissed the thought of taking my inhaler with me, so it was in the medicine cabinet in my old home, where no one would ever use it ever again. Much far out of my reach. Too late to go back and get it now, and that thought made me happy. The whole time I was on my street, I kept going on in my mind on how I could always turn back then and go back. I was finally too far away to have thoughts like that. I was free enough to have thoughts like that.

Settling in, I propped myself in between two stall dividers, in the corner of an old horse stall. If anyone came in here, which I doubted anyone would bother, I was tucked away in this corner. No one would bother looking here. I plopped the suitcase next to me, opening it up. It was surprisingly empty. Just four pairs of clothes, some socks, a journal and a pen. And a wad of six hundred euros. I didn't steal that from anyone, if you are wondering. It was my old savings fund, for moving out. Turns out I couldn't stand waiting until I could legally run out on my parents, but the point is it was my cash. No crimes being committed here. Just a boy running away from home, nothing more. I grabbed the journal, and the pen, and cracked open the book. It was empty. I started writing.

_Things I Want To Feel _

_-Happiness_

_-Joy_

_-Bliss_

_-Surprise (Good surprise!)_

_-Friendship (With the person I really am, not fake Tino!)_

_-That feeling of not having to worry._

I smile.

_-Eventually, if I am lucky, love._

I keep smiling at that last one. Maybe I would be so lucky. I've already been pretty lucky, nobody noticed me and I've gotten so far! Well, it felt like far anyways. I didn't really care how far away I was right now. I was gone, and I was far enough where I couldn't go back. After I put away the journal, I curled up into a ball on the stable floor. It smelt like crap and mold, but I couldn't stop smiling. And hell, it didn't take long for sleep to pass over me.

Before slept took, I muttered one thing.

"I'll be home soon."


	2. Chapter 2

Three months ago, I ran away from home.

You know, this whole business of running away ended up going a lot more different than I thought it would. Every time I went into the grocery store, I would check the little boards they had up in them for parents looking for lost children, just to see if I was on them. Not once did I see my picture, my name, nothing. The world outside didn't seem to care that perfect angel Tino Vainamoinen had ran away from home. Granted, I was pretty far from that old house I used to live in now. I had trekked all the way from Helsinki to Tornio. Granted, I took buses along the way and stuff, but hey, I was pretty proud! I wonder a lot if my parents even bothered trying to look for me, or if they just woke up the day after I left, shrugged, and went on with their life.

When I think about it, I am a little astounded by how little I care what they did. I mean, they gave me life, you think I would care a great deal more what their opinion of me was. Every time I thought about them though, I simply give them the same disregard I can only assume they gave me. A shrug, _oh well, who cares_. Stuff like that. If they were looking for me, I doubt it was a really through search. After all, Tornio is a very long way from Helsinki. They let me slip away this far, and every step just got me a little further away from them. Every step was a step closer to assurance that I would never see them again, and that almost made me happy.

My list was the same. I haven't checked off any of them yet, because I haven't really settled down long enough to have time for feelings. But the pages after the list had changed over the three months I have been gone. It's kinda become a diary, listing out all the cool stuff I see, all the stuff I do, what I think. A mess of musings in sloppy handwriting, because I most certainly was not blessed with the gift of good handwriting. That was the one fault everyone back in Helsinki did see. _Oh, he's perfect, Miss Vainamoinen! Except for that atrocious handwriting..._ Nobody actually said that, but I bet they probably thought it. Not like it mattered anyways, I doubted I would see anyone I had ever saw there here. Tornio is nice and all, but Helsinki is Helsinki. None of mom's high society friends wanted to be here. My mom wouldn't come here either, being the high class snob she is, and dad had the same sentiments. Unless they suddenly got washed over with love they have never felt for me in their entire lives, I didn't need to count on ever seeing them again.

Anyways, if anyone got their hands on my diary, I could be sent to jail, so I am pretty protective of the thing nowadays. I write a lot in that little thing, and the pages of that book knows that I have had to resort to stealing stuff to get by. I started out with six hundred Euros. I never expected that to get far, sure, but having to steal sucks. Luckily, though I didn't get good handwriting, I did get blessed with good looks.

You're probably thinking- _Tino! How does being attractive make theft easy?_ I'll tell you. It takes away all the rules of thievery I swear, all I gotta do is bat those pretty little eyes of mine and suddenly I can take a shower in cash. Okay, that is an exaggeration, but being cute gets me out of the whole hard part of stealing stuff. Who knew that having a nice face is about lethal as holding a gun to someone's head? I certainly didn't, but when I walked up to that first girl at the park and kindly swindled her into giving me thirty Euros, I found out quick that I could be a criminal and not feel too terrible about it. No messy bank hold ups, no guns, no potential to kill. Unless you really think looks can kill, of course, then I am certainly a murderer.

I looked down at that suitcase of mine. It was in worse shape than when I took it with me down my street, which sure is saying something. Started out just a little old looking and frayed, now it was faded and quite honestly, it looked abused. I opened up the creaky latches, examining my possessions. A little thought for all of you planning on running away, you never get over the fact that everything you own can be shoved into such a small space. Personally, I can't wait for the day I find something permanent and manage to get a job and stuff, so I don't have to think about how small I am. That hasn't happened yet though, and I only had ten Euros in this small bag.

"Time to be pretty." Sighing, I shut it again. 'Time to be pretty.' was something I always said before I swindled people out of their cash. I don't remember why it started, it was just a thing I said. Seemed as natural as breathing though, like I had to say it before I did it or else I wasn't allowed to do it. Running away messes up your mind a million ways, but it is also the best thing you can do in a situation like mine.

The sky was grey today. I like grey skies, they calm me. Calm was definitely something I needed right now, as I look at all these big buildings, targeting which one I should enter. A shopping mart never went well, for obvious reasons. Hotels worked the best, especially if they happened to be run by women. Many times I had charmed my way into a hotel and just stayed the night there, wanting a bed, not money. Maybe I could get both tonight?

With all that on my mind, I decided that I'd be walking into the next hotel I spotted. Surprisingly, it took quite awhile to find that hotel of glory. You'd think this place would have more hotels, being a border town and all. I bet the world just had it out for me and wanted to inconvenience me, like my whole life had been inconvenienced with my mere existing. No, I'm not suicidal or anything. Nobody loves life more than Tino Vainamoinen, trust me. A lot of times I just think it would have been better if I hadn't been born at all. If I had not been born, there would be nothing to miss, nothing to mourn about life. My parents would have liked that. Block it out as I may, I don't think I will ever forget the subtle reminders from my ever so bitter mother that I was an accident. My dad called me the broken condom more than once. I am entirely aware that my life, and everything in it up to this point, was an accident.

I found a hotel eventually, and walking into that hotel was no accident. Fate wanted me to go there. Maybe that is why I passed up all the other places I could have easily got money from. That was why I was so suddenly set on a hotel robbery. But I didn't know that this run-of-the-mill swindle would wind up being so much more than I had intended it on ever being. The hotel itself wasn't special looking, though it was notably old. Not exactly run down, but old. As I walked up to the front door, the sign next to the fancy looking door confirmed that.

**Oxenstierna Hotel - Founded 1913.**

A very simple sign, but it didn't need much more, did it? I didn't pay much attention to it in any case, too excited for the whole robbing thing. It is so wrong, but even for someone as clean cut as me, you still get that rush. Adrenaline, you can't help it. Or at least I always tell myself that you can't help it, because God forbid I actually enjoy robbery. I don't wanna become a criminal, right now I am just temporarily obligated to it.

Upon opening the door, I should have been a little more surprised by how welcoming the place was. Hotels are made to be welcoming, sure, but this place felt too right. Meaning, it felt too much like a home. I didn't notice at all. Too much adrenaline. Way too much. My hands shook, sweated, all that nasty-feeling stuff that happens when you are entirely aware you are about to do something very wrong. Maybe that adrenaline rush isn't as great as I originally described it, because the whole thing is very much laced with guilt. The lady at the front desk is probably in her early fifties, so I would have to play my cards right with this one. Women in their thirties oddly enough the easiest to get cash out of. Older made it a little harder, but nothing is impossible. I'm the untouchable Tino, after all, the boy who had escaped a falling home in Helsinki and got himself all the way to Tornio on his own. Worry shouldn't even be in my vocabulary anymore. I was king of the world, unstoppable!

Think that all I want, I didn't feel unstoppable at all standing up at this desk. She looked to me, giving me a curt smile. The lady wasn't so good at smiling though, it seemed super forced, but points for trying I guess. "Welcome to The Oxenstierna Hotel, would you like a room?"

I gulp, trying to think about literally anything else. So I thought about the lady. She was clearly aged now, but you could assume that once upon a time, she had been beautiful. Her smile sucked, but she had pretty hair. Blonde, albeit graying, but shiny. Her skin was smooth looking beyond the wrinkles as well. Being honest though, she could have looked like a literal pile of dung and would have still been considered beautiful just because of her eyes. I like blue eyes just like anyone else, but her's were different. Almost luminescent. Enthralling. I wanted to simply stare at them and be entangled in their beauty, but I had things to do, money to steal and such.

The realization that I was using my own beauty to get money from someone with those kind of eyes was a little daunting. Before I had always stolen from the less... Attractive. But I was already here, what was the worst that could happen! I gave her my smile, tugging my lips in that perfect way I had trained them. You have no idea how many mirrors I have stared into, making sure my smile was best it could be. I don't think anyone in the history of ever has ever cared about their smile as much as I do. I needed to though, the smile was what sold this whole thing. "Oh, yes! How much is one night?

She had no clue what I was attempting, so all she did was answer, "It'll be sixty a night."

Funny. I only had ten on me. I unbuckled my suitcase, handing her my ten. "This is all I have... Can I take a job or something to pay the rest?" Being the honest kid I was, I always did do that work I promised to do. But there is another part to this crime which involves me opening up the safe while I am cleaning and taking about eighty Euros out. I don't wanna take to much ever, I only ever let myself steal eighty at a time. I need to live, yes, but I don't want to put a business under just because I need to live.

"I have a son for that." The woman, who I was currently assuming was Mrs. Oxenstierna, scoffed. I had been rejected before, the initial rejection was actually normal, so I wasn't at all phased by it. This was the first time they had a son do their work for them, but I am sure that is a detail I can work around pretty easy.

I pout, keeping the money held out for her to take. "Then he can have a day off. Please, I really have no where else to go..." Hey, at least that last part was kind of true. No hotel would take ten bucks, I wasn't dumb. And I wasn't fond of the idea of sleeping in some city street. I was a runaway, not a homeless guy.

But I didn't have a home anymore, that qualified as homeless. I try not to think about being homeless though, it seems derogatory in my mind. In between homes is the term I prefer to use on myself. That way I never really have to mentally face just how shitty this whole situation is. Nevermind these thoughts though, I just think a lot I guess. The woman responded though, after a good few moments of staring me over, grabbing the money I had offered. "Hmph. I guess the kid needs a day off."

Phew, hard part over. Cracking the safe was never as hard as cracking the front desk. Less emotionally stressful, that is for sure. "Thank you." I keep my smile on, though it became more natural and relaxed as she gave me the key. I'd have a bed at last... And soon, money.

"No, thank you." Mrs. Oxenstierna smiled, "Once you get your stuff put up, come to the back room, just behind me. You got work to do." To be certain I knew the location, she pointed behind her, to a door. It wasn't labeled or anything, but even without her direction, it could be assumed that was a staff room of the sorts. In response, I nodded, proceeding to hurriedly head up a narrow flight of stairs that led to room four, which the tab on my key indicated would be mine for the night. I but only glanced at the room, in a hurry to get downstairs and get to work. Quickly, my precious suitcase was left on the bed, and I closed the door behind me.

Nothing eventful happened between me closing the door and coming downstairs. Something very eventful happened when I opened the door to the staff room. I was eye level with someone's neck as I opened the door, which I had not anticipated. Like any rational human being, I squealed. "EEEP!" I called back, stepping back a few feet for extra measure.

When I got the courage to look back up, I got a little less scared. Only because the head, and more particularly, the face, held up by that neck was a very attractive one. Wow. To put it in very simple terms, he was fine. A little frightening, but I like my men like that, so there were no complaints on my end with that. He had those glowing blue eyes the lady at the front had. Short and kinda choppy blonde hair sat upon his head, fitting his long, structured face well. He had an almost model-like face. Scratch that, why was this guy working in a hotel anyways? He should be strutting that beauty on some runway. Oh and did he have the body to match, those arms were so strong looking-

_TINO. Contain yourself, please, for the love of God, you're about to steal from this guy's mom. _

The whole 'I am stealing from this hottie's mom' thing just hit though. Maybe it was really shallow to think, but I felt a little worse knowing that someone this... Attractive, would be affected by my thievery. Actually, that was really, really shallow. I always felt bad for stealing, but I haven't ever stole from anyone with this attractive of spawn. Wow. Wow. I am officially the most shallow man on this Earth.

"Hi." He muttered, staring down at me. Oh my gosh, I was so staring at this guy. Put me in jail for eye rape immediately, because I am not going into detail, but I was not looking him an ounce innocently.

I gulped. "Uh- sorry. I didn't think you'd be... Like, at the door and stuff. Hi. Are you the lady at the counter's son? I'm Tino. I'm like super poor so I am taking your job for the day. Is that okay?" I mutter on and on about the most stupid stuff when I am around hot people, I swear, this is precisely why I have only ever had one boyfriend my whole life. Not like I intended on making a boyfriend out of this guy. Wouldn't mind it at all, but considering I am stealing from him, I don't think the relationship would go very far at all.

He nodded. He was so tall, he had to look down at me. That was kinda hot. Really hot. Damn. I couldn't even think in a complete sentence at this point, that's how hot he was. I don't think he knew how attractive he was, but it doesn't matter. He can be eye candy and unaware of it, fine by me. "Yeah, I'm her son. Berwald." And like any normal human being would, he held out a hand to shake.

Oh my. I was about to grab his hand. I, Tino, would get to touch an angel. Of course I was excited. I mean, who doesn't get all fluttery in their chest when they see a practical walking sex God like this? I thought stuff like that to justify it, but all I actually did was take his hand and smile best I could. "N-nice name. My name is Tino, it's really nice to meet you. Have a nice day and stuff."

Another nod. Do hot people nod a lot? According to Berwald's actions, they definitely did. "I will." Was all he said to me before walking past me, and I can only assume he left the hotel, because my mind took a good minute of spacing before I came back down to reality after that. Call me tough and stuff for enduring running away from home so well, but I do not handle hot people well at all.

Even with my mind stopped from a hot-man coma, the world did keep turning, and I was fetched for by the lady at the front desk, who never confirmed her name for me. I just kept going on assuming she was Mrs. Oxenstierna, which turned out working out by her. I'll spare you the details of my work. All that is important is that, the whole time, I was thinking. I do a lot of thinking. I was mostly thinking about Berwald at the beginning. He was the type of hot that just kind of leaves an imprint on your life forever. The type of hot that you remember, talk about with your friends, the immediate person you think about when someone says the word attractive. Mind blowing. You can't really blame me in particular for being so impacted by it. The last three months, though liberating, have been pretty mundane in terms of socializing, and I hadn't come across someone so mind-numbingly attractive my whole life. My weak state just made the impact harder.

Near the end of my work though, when the sun came down through the window, my mind got itself back on track. Even someone that unattainable type of attractive cannot take away the whole runaway thief factor of my life forever, though the brief distraction was awesome. I had to steal. I decided, due to her having Berwald as a son, I would only steal fifty bucks. I guess crime does discriminate, if you don't have tall, blonde, blue-eyed, muscular sons, you get more money stolen from you. But hey, that is life! I already had the safe in sight, this would be easy. It was tradition for me to finish working first though, so I didn't start my meddling until I had finished my last chore- the dishes.

The safe itself was easy to crack, easy to open, and that was all apparent just by the appearance. It was old, probably as old as the hotel I assumed. I put my ear up to the safe, needing to hear those small ticks to crack it open. But then, something happened to me that has never, ever, not even once, happened to me before. It was bound to happen eventually I guess, I just wish it hadn't been now.

I stopped upon hearing footsteps, and the opening of a door.

I sigh, pushing myself off the safe at the suddenly very loud sound of an opening door. I held my hands up, just to prove I wasn't gonna pursue the money anymore. I'd leave without protest, and hope they wouldn't inform the police. Because the police would send me home. And home was a million, trillion times worse than prison.

"Filthy." At least I hadn't been caught by Berwald, I would have felt worse. But no, just his mom. I could feel her disproving stare in my back, I swear. I held my head low. Just because her super hot son didn't catch me did not mean I didn't feel bad. Being caught at all made me feel like crap. Even doing it made me hurt. Here I was, the perfect son in everyone's eyes but my own parents, stealing from a hotel. Never before did I ever think I would wind up doing this, but I was doing it, and this could be the end. "Face me."

I turn around willingly, not meeting her bright eyes.

"Why?"

Okay, time to meet those bright eyes, because I was way to confused. Why? What happened to getting cussed out? Or shot? Or the normal reaction? Who even asks why? Who cares why? "Why?" I blinked, not getting it.

"Yes," She nodded, frowning, "You must have a reason why. So, why?"

Truth time. I sigh, slowly lowering my hands to my pockets. I had no fake pity story to get out of this. I had a real one. I never planned on getting caught, so what she was getting now was something she hadn't got out of me yet, something real. But I spared her the long story of being called the broken condom by my dad all my life, so I just told her the plain, simple, raw truth. "I'm a runaway. From Helsinki. Needed money."

"Ever thought about earning it?" I have never in my life been so confused. She seemed more annoyed than mad. Uh, I just tried to steal from your respectable establishment. Be mad like a normal human please, I can comprehend that. This just annoyed bullshit didn't make any sense to me.

But the least she deserved was an answer. I am no criminal, not a normal one. A normal one would- I dunno- try to kill her or something. I'm to weak to do that, so I just kept up with those answers. "I want to. I don't like the whole stealing thing. But I'm never in one place long enough to get a job anywhere."

Mrs. Oxenstierna nodded. There was something off in her eyes. I couldn't pinpoint what it was. But this wasn't normal. "I see. Go to bed now."

Cue question marks in my mind. What? No '_Get out of my hotel!'_? Just _'Go to bed now?' _I didn't know how else I was supposed to respond, so I just nodded, willing to do whatever she told me. Maybe she wanted me in bed while she called the police. Maybe she was gonna kill me in my sleep. I didn't know what was going on at all, but I felt bad, and all I knew with certainty was that I wanted to make up for my thievery, so I did as she said.

I closed the door to my room, left it unlocked. If she was gonna kill me, fate clearly wanted it, so there wasn't a point in trying to fight fate anymore. Just leave it open Tino, make it easier on the woman. Before falling onto the bed with knots of guilt welling in my stomach, I took my suitcase off the bed and tucked it away under the bed, immediately curling into a ball on it. I stared at the wall for a long time, thinking about things. No angry footsteps ever came to kill me, not while I was conscious at least.

_Tino, you messed up._

With such a guilty heart, you would think I wouldn't be able to sleep that night. But they sure had put me to work for those fifty Euros I owed them, and I was bone tired already from walking so much these past months. I slept well. Guilt didn't affect my sleep at all.

I didn't know what tomorrow held. But what happened was something I didn't anticipate at all, and I even anticipated my own murder, so that's saying something.


	3. Chapter 3

(A/N: I don't leave notes much, but since Berwald *finally* starts coming in this chapter, I would like to say I am kind of experimenting with writing his accent. It will never be that whole vowel slaughter, so don't worry about that. I'm trying to make it kind of subtle, tell me if you like it or not. Also, thanks very much for all the reviews! I am happy you all seem to like how I do Tino so far. I hope my later chapters continue to bring him justice. -Tuuli.)

I awoke to something that was oddly pleasant, granted it was oddly horrifying in it's own way.

"Wake up." Hot guy voice. I was a little terrified how quickly I had discerned that it was Berwald's voice. I guess it was better to be woken by him rather than his mother. He hadn't witnessed me trying to rob him, at least. Though I was certain he knew what I had done, that wasn't just something you didn't tell your son about. Mrs. Oxenstierna was a really weird lady, but she wasn't weird enough to not inform her son of something like that I don't think. My eyes peeled open pretty quickly. I had a guilty conscience, not to mention my eyes were probably always gonna be eager to behold someone so attractive.

Me and all my glory, I suppose. I might be hauled back to Helsinki and back to Hell today, but I still managed to have a mind for a hot guy when I saw one. Oddly enough, that realization was a huge relief. Kind of a reminder I was still sane through all of this, that I might be dead pretty soon, but I was still me. Weird comfort, right? Who cares, comfort is welcome when it comes to my life nowadays. I smile at him, because I can. My moods change a lot, don't they? I go from petrified because his mom is probably waiting with a gun downstairs, to flirtatious. Flirtatious by my standards, which is small and subtle, like smiles. "Sure."

Apparently, he wasn't in the mood for flirts. I understood that. I had been an ass. I mean, stealing? Really? What was I thinking? There is like, a rule somewhere specifically stating it is _especially_ not legal to steal from people that attractive. It made them mad, and pretty people stopped looking pretty when they frowned too much, and then their beauty would waste away, and that was awful. I bet a million bucks that I don't have that frowning made Mrs. Oxenstierna less attractive than she used to be... "Seriously, get up. Yer not in trouble... Actually, I would call this the opposite of punishment, for someone like ya."

I sat up at his second command, yawning. My tired eyes looked up to his much more intimidating and alert ones. Opposite of punishment? Oh, I get it. She pitied me. I'd get fifty bucks and I'd be on my way. That had happened to me once before. Not because I messed up stealing like I had this time, but because a someone saw me sleeping in an alley, felt bad for me, and literally stuffed twenty Euros in my pocket while I was asleep. I never found out who gave it to me, but if anyone ever came forward and took credit for it, all I could do is thank them verbally. I still don't have much to offer, though their kind money had got me to Tornio. Tornio hasn't been the land of opportunity I had hoped it been yet, but progress was progress in the grand scheme of things in any form.

There was an awkward pause, in which, for once, I had nothing to say. Berwald broke it. "Why?"

So, being inquisitive was a family trait. Sighing, I went over it again, this time much more tired, and I probably even sounded agitated, something he really didn't deserve. I should comply with a smile, you know, to make up for my bullshit stealing thing. But it was too early in my mind to pretend, so Berwald got what he got. "I have shitty parents. Shitty life, in Helsinki. So I ran away. I only had like six hundred Euros though, I am broke, so here I am. Stealing. I don't like it, but it is what it is. Any more questions why? Because it is as simple as that. It isn't something vast, interesting or complex." Standing to my feet, I ruffle down my hair. I have hideous bed head, and I didn't wanna look so atrocious in front of this guy. Granted our chances of ever happening were currently in the negatives, I just didn't wanna look bad. It's human nature to yearn to look acceptable in the presence of the more fortunate of looks.

Another nod. I need to keep a log going in my journal to count how many times he nods, just out of curiosity. Was this the second time? Or maybe the third? We have had two conversations, which means, so far, once per conversation. If I remember properly.

He led me down the stairs, and I followed, suitcase in hand. I muse about such dumb things. Nodding? How stupid and trivial and unimportant. I will agree with my parents on one thing, that I thought the unimportant things in life held some vast and untold importance that, more times than not, were never really there. They always yelled at me for that, and I guess I understood that. I'd wonder aloud about how all the tall people I knew liked coffee, and why trees grew up. I went on for a long time about that last one. Why didn't the roots poke out the ground, and the tree trunk go in the ground? See, dumb stuff. My mind is always off the wall too, going from one obscure idea to the next. His mother was waiting downstairs for me though, and that really is more important right now.

Good news, she wasn't mad. Well, I mean, not too mad, certainly more calm than I had expected. She didn't have anything in her hands that could potentially kill me. Her expression was unreadable. But there were no police, no parents. All good signs. I gulped, not wanting to face this, but here she was, facing me. I was already facing it. Might as well speak. "Hello."

Everything I did could lead to me being sent home, if that wasn't already set in stone already. I really, really needed to play my cards right. Otherwise, everything these past few months I worked so hard to build up? It would crumble, crumble quick. And I wouldn't be able to put it back together. I could try, but it would be like trying to put up a wall of stone back up with a stapler. You can assume how well that would go.

"Hello, Tino. Did you sleep well?" Avoiding it was killing me. Just tell me, was my life done for or not? I wanted to know, to appease the growing dread in my chest. That was the absolute worst feeling in the world. I could handle it in my tummy, because then I could just laugh it off and claim sickness. Just a stomach flu! But when it came to the knots welling up in your heart, the ones that happen only when you've done something horrifically wrong, and the consequences are just right in front of you, about to take a bite out of your soul? There was no other justification. It was one-hundred percent dread, in it's most raw, hard to handle form. And that was the type you had to suffer with, because you couldn't ever push it away entirely. I think Mrs. Oxenstierna knew that. Dragging it out was perhaps the very start of a long punishment for me, and I probably deserved it.

But I did sleep well. "Yeah, I did. The room was very nice." True, all true. I am a thief, sure. Far from some perfect, upstanding member of society. Still, I try to avoid lying best I can, because that normally ends up just making life worse in my experience. I didn't need to fuel the fire right now. Plus, the room was truly very nice. Old as this place clearly was, it was well kept. Recently painted, new flooring installed, all the works. I bet that cost a lot of money, now that I think about it.

As if that thought cued her words, she spoke. "Yes, we renovated the place two years back. Cost a lot of money, money you almost stole, Tino. Money that would be gone if you hadn't been caught."

The first thing I wanted to say was '_But it was only fifty Euros!'_ In the end, the amount of money I was taking did not matter. I was taking money, money I had in no way earned, money they deserved. I don't have the best filter on me though, so I said it despite knowing it didn't matter. Just saying it got it out of my system, and I only needed it out once. But it did need out. "I was only gonna take fifty..."

"You are such a child, for someone who feels big enough to run away," I expected the castigation, and simply listened close, "The problem here is not the money. I can give you money. We have that, don't you worry about that at all. If I had understood your situation, I would have just gave it to you, you know. But you didn't even ask. I don't know what world you had at home, but you have left that place, and must be in this world now as a respectable human, despite what may have happened back then." Ah, the grow up speech. How many times had I received this at that old house of mine? Of course, not in such a serious manner. And unlike now, I never thought it was right at all. But I understood what this woman was saying. Hell, I agreed! It was wrong. But that was just life for a runaway.

The prominent old woman gave no indication she was done, and I would not speak until she did. She turned on her heel, pacing through the lobby as she spoke, leaving Berwald and I to watch on. "I do not want to know what happened to you in that old home. Do not bother telling me, because you will only use it as an excuse for your shortcomings later on. Not giving you a voice takes away those excuses, leaving you only yourself to blame. That will help you grow up. I have no idea your age, and I can only assume you are a little too young to really grow up, but in situations like your own, one must grow up earlier than the norm."

I was confused, but listening, eyes kept on her to show respect.

"Enough of my dilly dally. Tino, you are living with us now. Under my roof. I will not call the police unless you attempt another robbery. But unless you are a pure idiot, I doubt that will be an issue ever again. You'll be an employee, and I will pay you with a place to sleep, clothes, and food. Oh, and of course education, I am practically adopting you, I will not have a stupid son." With that, she walked up to me specifically. The family was made of giants I swear, and even though she was a pretty old chick, I still had to look up at her a little bit. Intimidating, but with the offer I was being made, I was in no place to flinch away from this. Her blue eyes squinted, taking me in. "I have a feeling you are respectable, deep down. You did do those chores, and that was probably your saving grace, kid. You speak any Swedish?"

The last question jolted me back to reality, forcing me to remember that I had a tongue to speak with, and I needed to use it. I nodded quickly, "Yeah, a little. It isn't perfect or anything, but I took it in school... My Finnish is way better, but-"

"Hush." I was cut off, and that made me jerk back a little. I'm not used to being cut off. My parents sucked, but they were abusive in a different way. They didn't cut off my sentences, they just acted like they never heard them. This was new... "I just asked a yes or no question. Do you speak Swedish, or not? Yes or no."

I can tell this raising up was probably what made Berwald seem standoffish. But it was certainly a better deal than what I got. "Yes."

"Good. Don't know if you can tell, but we are from Sweden. Berwald's dad owned the place, and we lived in a town nearby in Sweden. But Aksel up and died four years ago, and since then it has been up to my son and I. Well, and you, now. But our Finnish falters sometimes, and we normally speak Swedish just talking..." She seemed very relieved. Couldn't blame her for that though. It's my native tongue, and I knew that was the only reason I grasped it at all. Swedish was pretty simple for me to get, considering it was a good bit less complex. Getting used to speaking it around them wouldn't be extremely easy or anything, but I owed them a shot with it after what I did.

I nod. Hm, looks like I am starting to get into nodding too. Was the first time I had done it in this conversation? I forget. I hope it is, I don't wanna start nodding as much as Berwald or anything. "I can help you two with Finnish, if it would help. I mean, running the front desk would be pretty hard without a good understanding of it."

Mrs. Oxenstierna took that as an insult, unfortunately. Her brows furrowed, and her previously indifferent expression evolved into a more obvious frown. "Kid, I speak Finnish just fine. It's a pain in the ass to speak all the time though, so I'm just telling you to keep on your toes."

Note taken. I nod. Two times in under a minute, that was for sure. I need to quit nodding.

"Well, get to work." She turned away from me, cracking her knuckles. "You've got a lot to make up to me. Keep that room key by the way, that's your bedroom now."

I couldn't help but smile. I nearly rob this woman, and what do I get? Shelter. Maybe even a home. But I wouldn't hope too hard for that last one yet. "Ma'am?

"Hm?"

"Thank you."

And like I could feel her scowl without seeing it yesterday, when she caught me with my ear up to all of her money, I could feel the smile she had as I thanked her for this chance. Life may have sucked pretty hard up to here, but I guess miracles even happen to people like me.

Mrs. Oxenstierna simply walked off, not giving a verbal response. Neither of them were verbal, but I could do the talking for them in the future. I sure had the mouth to do it. But now was not the time for talking, now was time to wash windows.


	4. Chapter 4

I've been in this nice hotel for two weeks now.

Working for someone like Mrs. Oxentierna could be pretty hard. I mean, she's a really blunt woman, and she is not at all afraid to tell you when you screw up. I noticed that, not just in me, but with her son. Though I took most the work now, she still had that unreasonably attractive son of her's working for her, and she scolded him just as she did me.

Is it a little weird of me, to appreciate being punished? Not like in some masochistic way, I just like that I am treated as someone's equal now. I didn't have any siblings or anything back in my old family, no one to be treated beside to compare my situation to. Never was I equal to my parents though, if you want to try and compare that. Berwald didn't seem to be even with his mother in terms of power with their relationship, but it seemed healthier than what I was grown accustomed to. She told him she loved him and stuff, and I only remember hearing that when I was in public, only said when others could hear it. Saying it wasn't genuine was an understatement. With them, it seemed to be. I decided that even though she was a rough old gal, I liked Mrs. Oxentierna.

Initially, I assumed that the Oxenstiernas would be early to rise, but turns out, I always woke up the earliest. I used the space of time in the morning to write in my journal, bathed in the pale light of my opened window. I always had a lot to write in there, and writing made me feel calm. I dunno, it is pretty weird, but writing it down made it final, like I had to prove to myself that it happened or something.

_I found out a lot of cool stuff yesterday about them! Apparently, Mrs. Oxentstierna's first name is Alfhild. I'm still gonna call her Mrs. Oxenstierna though, it seems wrong to be on a first name basis with her. She taught me how to properly fix up an entire room after someone leaves yesterday. I like working here a lot. I'm being productive, I'm sleeping in a bed, the family is nice (even though she wasn't kidding about how much they speak Swedish- I swear, sometimes she uses confusing words that I've never learned of just to taunt me!) And I am certainly not complaining that her son happens to be so attractive. Nope nope, not at all. But he's kind of hard to talk to, he's one of those people who __really__ like one word sentences. He's kind of scary in that way, but it takes a lot more than that to really scare me. I kind of have a friend here in addition to them though. There is an Estonian guy named Eduard who talks to me a lot. He's a guest here, and apparently his parents are here for business, and all he gets to do is be bored at the hotel, so now we are friends. He's really nice to me, but I don't think he likes Berwald much. I think it is because he's scared of him, but he won't admit it if he is._

_Anyways, I'm just super happy to be here. Good job for screwing up so bad and trying to steal from these guys, Tino._

I signed my name at the bottom, in my own chicken-scratch way. I amuse myself, because I always sign my initials, which happen to be T.V. If you didn't know my name, you might as well assume a television was writing my journal. It was close enough though, my life lately has been interesting enough that you could probably write a decent show out of it. My whole life was like that though, and from what I knew of movies, they ate up that whole family drama stuff. The shows would love my family. Idolize them. Not in a good way, I don't think, but they would be made famous.

Quickly, I stop thinking about that. Going in to deep on how my shitty life was made fetish by the media disgusted me, it was too early for that bullshit.

As I do every day, I open back to the first page of my notebook, the list. I had checked off one thing.

_-Surprise (Good Surprise!) [x]  
><em>

If you couldn't guess already, that got marked off the night I came into this home, to work. Who wouldn't be surprised to be taken in after a robbery, I mean! I would call that a pleasant surprise too, because an unpleasant surprise was something like police running in and carrying me back to Helsinki. I have a home. That was good. I keep debating if I should mark off friendship because Eduard was kind of a friend to me, but I wasn't sure. He was only here until the end of the month, and I didn't have a cell phone, and I wouldn't dare ask for one. I owed this place too much to be demanding something that I didn't need from it. But anyways, Eduard. I didn't know how we would end up, so I didn't know if calling us friends was a safe statement to begin with, and even if it was, I doubted it was a permanent one. In this age, long distance communication without a cell phone never worked long.

Calling Berwald a friend didn't seem right either. He didn't talk enough for me really to tell if he liked my company at all or not, unlike Eduard, who made it painfully obvious he liked having me around. And Mrs. Oxenstierna was way to old to be a friend of mine, she was more like a mother figure. I wouldn't ever call her mom or anything, and she wasn't extremely protective over me. But you can't take someone like me in after what I have done and not have strong maternal instinct. I admired her as a person, but I wouldn't call of any of that friendship.

I closed the journal, stuffing it into the drawer next to my bed. I had discovered that Berwald was a super-accomplished craftsmen, especially with wood and furniture and the likes, and apparently he made most the furniture in the hotel. He learned from his dad, who I didn't know much else about, besides his name and that he apparently looked a lot like Berwald, but with brown eyes. I couldn't picture Berwald with any other color of eyes. It just seemed right for him to have frighteningly azure eyes, and nothing else. Apparently he didn't like them much, since statistically, though most beautiful, blue eyes are the weakest when it comes to vision, resulting in him donning a pair of wire-framed glasses that honestly set off his face quite well. But all he had told me on the matter was that it was inconvenient.

A bad tendency of mine, going on mentally about him. No, don't think I have a crush on him or anything. I'm honest with myself enough to admit that any attraction I felt toward him at the moment was entirely induced by how he looked. Nothing to be ashamed of, I never quite understood why people felt guilty for liking the appearance of someone they didn't know very well. What I had for him was just an extremely prevalent liking of his attractive face and body. If I struggled to call him a friend, I would not be calling him a crush anytime soon, now would I?

"Hey, Tino!" I was greeted by Eduard as I came downstairs, dressed in proper attire. I had been given old hand-me-downs from Berwald to wear. Apparently he wasn't always a muscly giant, because his old stuff fit me decently. According to Mrs. Oxenstierna though, if I ever needed the clothes altered, I could get Berwald to do it. I'll admit, I was a little shocked to learn that he knew how sew. Just picturing him sitting around sewing with a needle and thread was pretty amusing.

_Haha, I bet he could crush the needle in his hands or something ridiculous like that. _I mused, waving to my (debatable) friend. "Good morning Eduard. What has got you up this early in the morning?"

"Dunno, the sun woke me up I guess. You?" He questioned me, arms crossed. He was already dressed and everything, and being honest, it looked like he had been up for quite sometime. Hair brushed, face washed, proper attire in place. Eduard always dressed kind of fancy, in a nerdy way. In the many times we talked, he had mentioned a lot on how he was pretty much just a stereotypical nerd in his own opinion, and liked computers more than most people.

He told me he liked me more than computers though, apparently. I didn't quite know what that meant, he was hard to read. "I always wake up early, I work here."

I swear, he forgets daily I work here. "Well, yeah! But still, this is kinda ridiculous, you are up before the owner herself!"

"So are you." I shrug. And from the looks of it, today, he seemed to have been awake longer than even I, and I had time to write a moderately lengthy diary entry that morning. Naturally, I wondered what was up with him, but nothing could be done about it, even if I knew. I got a little less intrusive during my stay here, but I am still me, and I do forget boundaries occasionally.

Eduard, who I mostly just wind up calling Ed only because I am lazy, just sighed to that. He followed me like a lost puppy into the kitchen. He was a high-paying guest, so the kid could go wherever he wanted. Not trying to say the kitchen is cut off to our normal customers, they just never really came in like he did. I went to my work, preparing the coffee for us staff. And the guests, if they wanted it I guess, but Eduard was the only one who even came in to take advantage of it, and he didn't really like coffee enough to care much. I poured my own cup after it was all brewed up, and as a proper man should, I drank it black. That was one trait I did seem to share with both Oxenstiernas, the love of black coffee. He cringed to that, crinkling his nose at the strong stuff. I noticed, that when he did drink coffee, he drank it very differently than I did. He plopped in a few ice cubes, poured in creamer until the brown substance ran nearly white, and poured in enough grainy sugar to put a small child into a diabetic coma. It looked vile to me, but my drinking of the more natural stuff seemed as disgusting to him as his method of coffee drinking did to me. To each their own, I suppose.

"Why do you like that stuff?" You know, a lot of times I think I am awfully rude and intrusive, and then I compare myself to Eduard, and feel immensely better about that. He doesn't annoy me with it, it's actually more amusing to me than anything. I just think he is a little childish, but so am I, so I don't judge him for it.

Why do I? I dunno, my taste buds like feeling the riveting sensation of robust coffee run over it? I snort out loud to myself, an action that startled my companion quite a bit, as he stepped back with widened eyes. The way I had worded that in my mind had just amused myself, I couldn't help but laugh. I shrug my shoulders, trying to regain my composure in the process. "I dunno, I like strong coffee, that's all you can really say about it."

He blinked, adjusting his glasses. "Tino, you are the strangest friend I have."

I wonder if he was shocked at all by the momentary flash of my eyes, and the grin that spread on my face with that statement. Looks like I would get to knock off another thing on my list tomorrow morning.

"Men!" A familiar voice broke the short silence that had enveloped between us, catching our attention to a dressed, but barely awake Mrs. Oxenstierna. It was kind of a quirk of her's to greet the room by whatever gender prevailed the room. Had their been three ladies occupying the room with us, we would have been greeted by the chant of ladies. I don't think she had a reason to do it, she just did. But we all have our little things like that.

Eduard backed away, smiling. "Hello, Mrs. Oxenstierna."

"Hey, Mrs. Oxenstierna." I greet, handing her a mug of that black coffee I had made up. "Sleep well?"

As always, she took the coffee from my hands with an unspoken thanks. I, fortunately, don't care if manners are ever used on me, as long as I'm treated human. I don't need dumb formalities like thank you from people, and I surely did not need it from her. "Yeah, I did. Berwald is gonna be gone for the day by the way, he'll be out giving lessons to some kid."

"Lessons?" Eduard questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," She nodded, facing him. The respectable woman liked to face people when she spoke to them, and got very much distracted if people didn't look at her when she spoke to them, so she made sure to keep their attention. Her eyes made that an easy task, I think. "He's into making stuff out of wood, and he likes teaching kids if they give him a Euro or so."

Now, that I did not know. A single buck? Maybe the guy was generous, but that was downright unreasonable. Eduard seemed to agree. "That cheap?

Her smile in response to that was quite large. Though not the most verbal, she was truly proud of her only son, and I think anyone could see that in her. "What can I say? The man likes kids a lot. And it gives him an excuse to make stuff out of wood. Works out for everyone."

You know, the more I learn about the guy, slowly the more adorable he gets. Which shouldn't be fair at all, he was already attractive. And when you are attractive, you gotta have a super fatal flaw. I mean, I am a perfect example of that! I know I am good looking, no dispute about it, but I am a runaway ex-thief. My flaw to balance out being attractive. Every attractive person had one. You can't really count Berwald's short sentences as a flaw, because that was just a cute quirk, not a flaw. But he had one, otherwise he was breaking attractive laws, which wasn't exactly possible to do.

Eduard sighed a long sigh. I wondered what was up with that. Maybe he liked kids? I wondered if he had a girlfriend or a boyfriend or something. Maybe he had a kid with them? The guy was fairly attractive, so maybe having a child so young was his flaw!

_Or maybe it is you just having a hyperactive imagination, Tino._

Yeah, that was probably it, actually. Luckily I don't have much time to be too hyperactive now, with this job. "Anyways, Tino, you'll have to do Berwald's work today. He hasn't left yet, but I'm letting him sleep in because, patient as Ber is, kids are tiring. So you get the slack."

I nodded, setting down my coffee mug in the sink. "Got it." After I get orders, I don't procrastinate. An intensive left by my parents, who never let me procrastinate a minute of my life. I could thank them for that, it made me an exceptional worker. Eduard followed behind, on the claims that he wouldn't get in the way and he had absolutely nothing else to do. I didn't fight, Ed isn't worth fighting.

He sat in the couch while I made the bed to a room that was now vacant. "Soo..." He mused, staring up at the ceiling. "What are you thinking?"

"Hm?" I fluffed a pillow, not really getting the question.

"What are you thinking, Tino?" He repeated, still looking up at the ceiling. Out of a brief moment of childish curiosity, I let my eyes follow his gaze, just to see if anything was interesting in the ceiling for him to be staring so hard. But there wasn't. He was just staring.

Well, how the hell was I supposed to answer that? "Um, pillow fluffing?"

That was the first time I ever heard him laugh. He has a weird laugh, it sounds kind of like he's choking, but he probably doesn't know that. It is rude to insult someone's laugh anyways, so I didn't. "That's cute."

I didn't know what was so cute about my job, so I went about it silently. For the rest of the day, eventually he stopped following me. I don't think he meant to come off as creepy, but for lack of better term, that _was_ creepy. Now that I think about it, I think Berwald might actually be better at communication than him. One word sentences made more sense than complete ones that didn't further the conversation at hand.

But it didn't much matter to me in the end. I shrugged it off as my mind just being a little warped by the end of the day, as I helped put up the dishes from dinner. Berwald got home late, hugged his mom, and greeted me with an awkward grunt. He had a band-aid on his finger, apparently the kid had been really bad at the craft. He didn't seem mad about it though. By his standards, he was in a good mood. We even had a suitable conversation before we headed off to bed, while walking to our rooms. Not surprisingly, I had to initiate.

"How was your day?"

"Good." He shrugged, answering me.

I smile, leaning a little close to him. In a friendly way, of course! "What did you make?"

"A chair." Berwald informed me.

That was literally it before he parted to his own room with a wave of his hand. We had talked all the way from the kitchen to the hall. Call that small, but damn, I felt accomplished. Our normal conversations never got far, not to say this one did. It's just a thing- talking to him makes me really happy. When we work, I'll always babble on about stuff just to see if he has anything to say. And when he does, I get all giddy.

I opened up my drawer, grabbing for my journal. I thought for a moment if it was time. It honestly wasn't, but I was just so eager to have this list filled so I could move on from it.

_-Friendship (With the person I really am, not fake Tino!) [x]  
><em>

I marked that out before bed, and if you asked me, I wouldn't have been able to tell you if it was because of my excitement that I broke a little more through into Berwald that I just wanted to call us friends, or because Eduard had flat out called me his friend. I don't know which one meant more to me. Eduard is nice and all, but he's too clingy I suppose. Berwald keeps his distance, and I guess I was falling into that 'if I can't have it, I want it' frame of mind. But either way, I had experienced friendship somehow, I just didn't know which one qualified more as conventional friendship.

I fell asleep not caring either way.


	5. Chapter 5

(A/N: I know I said these will not be common, and hopefully, they will not be. I know you are all here for the story, not the silly author's notes! Anyways, I would like to thank everyone who corrected me on the whole dollar/euro thing. Being American, I just kind of assumed dollar could be used as a slang term for money elsewhere like cash and bucks. But, if you would like to go back, I have fixed all of the errors saying dollar! If I have missed any and anyone notices, please just tell me. I want this to be somewhat polished. Also, I apologize for my lack of updates, I had some life issues. Enjoy, and as always, thanks so much for the support! -Tuuli)

My life went on, in chops like that, not much significant happening in between. I filled my days with work and talk with my only two friends. I had decided after awhile that both Berwald and Eduard were friends, but in different ways. Back in Helsinki, I did have friends, so it wasn't like I was totally alienated on the subject. But before, everyone had befriended the Tino I had been trained to be, which was not necessarily the Tino I really was. These two were really friends to me. Berwald more so than Eduard I think, only because he knew the whole story. Mrs. Oxenstierna was sure to make a point that I did not tell a soul about my being a runaway, and I figured Eduard couldn't be an exception to that rule. So all in all, Berwald was closer to being friends with the real Tino Vainamoinen than anyone has ever been in the history of the entire world. And I was fine with that. I enjoyed the nearly one-sided conversations we had.

"This is a really awesome sweater." I smiled as I washed the dishes, while he swept the floor just behind me. "Thanks for giving it to me. That was really nice of you." Not like he had a use for it anymore, and not like he even had a choice in giving it to me. From what I had witnessed, his mother had simply begun rummaging through the back of his closet, pulling out all the stuff she recognized immediately that he would no longer fit. Luckily for me, he went through an ugly sweater phase back when he was my size, and I really love ugly sweaters. I think they suit me quite well, though it was honestly hard to picture him ever wearing it. Even when he was my size... But I really couldn't even picture him as my size.

He glanced up, nodding to me. He liked to look at people when they spoke, I noticed, just like his mom did. I liked it when he did it, I liked having any attention at all. But especially attention from someone like him. If it wasn't prevalent already, I am never going to be entirely over how he looks. When I told Eduard I wished I looked like Berwald passively, he told me that he was too intimidating to be considered hot. That consideration was something I had never considered though. Straight faced as he was, he just didn't frighten me. I liked how he looked. "I wore it a lot when I was in seventh grade." He responded.

So, my body was equivalent to a seventh grade Berwald. I knew now. It didn't make me feel small though or anything, I knew the guy was simply unrealistically big. I wasn't petite! (Okay, I am. But I am not gonna admit that. I'm just short, okay? Geez, leave me alone...)

"Why'd you stop wearing them?" I mused out loud. After all, I had not once seen the man wear a sweater. Most the time, he just wore plain t-shirts. I managed to tease him one time for wearing an ABBA shirt, only because I felt like delivering such a low blow. Not like I really cared, I liked ABBA too. I always kind of assumed he only listened to really hardcore stuff, throwing him with that whole big guys like metal stereotype. Which is bull for me of all people to follow, considering my size and how much metal I have melted my ears listening to.

His broad shoulders shrugged. I liked his shoulders. I know it is a super random body part to like, but I like what I like. Sometimes I wonder if he notices how much I stare randomly at him. The first time we met I had been giving off some pretty obvious stares, after all. One thing I have realized though, Berwald is the definition of dense. I could probably blatantly state right now how I looked at him a lot, and he would wind up convincing himself it never happened. "Shoulders stretch em out."

Hm. Guess having shoulders like that took away sweaters. If that was the truth, I was suddenly extremely thankful that I was not as large as him. I love sweaters too much not to wear them. "I would hate that. Do you miss them?" I pry, hoping to get a response.

A sigh escaped his lips, and that was actually the first time I looked at his lips. I was shocked that I hadn't look at them before. You know, I always went on about his face, and his lips were on his face. So how didn't I notice it? They were pale, and they looked soft... Gah, horrifically kissable. But again, I don't like the guy. He's just hot. If he kissed me, I'd kiss back, but that didn't obligate me to marry him. "I guess. Not a big deal." Oh, his choppy sentences, how I clung to every word. To me, he was like a novel that left you hanging to every word. Except, he was a short novel, with not many words, and not much of a story.

I knew a little about his 'story' I guess. Here is all I know about Berwald Oxenstierna. He's quiet, he likes woodcraft, he used to like sweaters, he's allergic to bees, he was close to his dad, he's hot, and he has exactly two friends. I didn't understand his friends though, because he didn't really get along with the Dane down the road who claimed to be buddies with Berwald. They just fought a lot. But now that I really, really think about it, it wasn't over anything serious. Still, I don't think I ever witnessed an entirely civil conversation between the two.

After that, we went quiet. But it was enough for me. And enough for him. After the dishes were washed, he left to go give lessons. So I left to my room, I had time to write an entry if I was quick, before Eduard noticed I wasn't working and obligated me to speak with him. The way I talk about him, you'd assume I didn't like the guy. Don't get me wrong, I do. I'm just not used to people like him, he's hard for me to comprehend. Maybe that came from his more perfect family life. I got along with Berwald, but his dad was dead. Maybe a person's family affected them more than I had ever considered.

In any case, I hope that being affected didn't lead me to ever being like my parents. I am way too young to be considering kids, but even I know I will never treat my children in the manner mine did me. That was on my mind as I cracked open that familiar old journal of mine. A smile crept on my lips, as I had managed to not lose the pen I had brought with me for this journey. It was almost out of ink, but I was stubborn, and for some reason, I was determined to use all the ink in this damn pen.

_Today has been good. I talked to Berwald. He has nice lips._

_Anyways, yesterday Eduard asked me for my phone number, and I had to tell him I didn't have one. He really wants to remain in contact with me, saying I'm a good friend. I'm not sure why he thinks that. Most of the time I am super dismissive of him, and I feel kinda bad about that. Anyways, apparently he values our friendship enough to try it the old fashion way, sending letters. I don't mind the idea, I just don't get why he's so quick to be friends with me.  
><em>

_I guess he's just lonely, but so am I. He's super clingy, but he's easier to talk to than anyone else. Berwald just listens on and on, but doesn't say much. I kinda wish he would say more... Maybe I can get more out of him. I mean, I live with him, it's only natural to wanna know more about the guy. Totally natural._

_Mom and dad still haven't tried to find me to my knowledge. I hope that keeps up._

I closed my journal, putting it back in my desk.

That night, Eduard hadn't come up to speak to me, which was surprising for me. Talking to the Estonian was routine for me by now, a part of my day I could expect to be there. So when I glanced over at the old-styled clock on my wall and discovered it was already well past nighttime and no show from Eduard, I was a little worried.

Standing from my bed, I remembered. This was his last night before he headed home. He lived in a really big town in Estonia, and he had told me a little about it. A big house, a huge lawn, two dogs. Perfect life, essentially. Kind of boring. I mean, not to to say having a bad life makes life more interesting, but... Well, it does. It makes it more interesting. But not more enjoyable. It's torture to live, but fun to hear about. That has always confused me, how true it is. After all, in schools, they always go on about how a story has to have conflict. Having no conflict made it stale, by a teacher's standpoint.

Me and my over-analysis. How amusing.

I found myself knocking on Eduard's door. After some consideration, I almost turn back. His parents might be there, preparing him for their leave. I'd be interrupting, but those little worries dissipated as soon as the familiar blonde opened up the door, greeting me with a nice, white smile. "Tino! Hey!"

Smiles must be contagious. Upon seeing his, I ended up smiling as well. "Hey, Ed. Everything in your room okay?"

A nod. "Yes, yes. It's all fine. Do you have time to hang out a little bit? I'm leaving tomorrow."

"Of course." I respond, taking it as an invitation and stepping into his room. Eduard was one of the more mindful guests, which was evident as an employee. He made his bed himself, and made sure everything was in shape. Hell, I think he treated the small room as his own. The only thing I ever had to do was take out the trash, replace the toiletries, and of course replace towels. His respect was something I valued, as other guests certainly did not share the same regard. The things I've seen in this hotel... Especially the honeymooners. Those rooms are the worst to clean up after, for obvious reasons.

Again, my mind continued to wander off. I apologize for that, I do a lot of thinking. Eduard was on the other side of the room now, looking out his window. The sight wasn't too great honestly, just staring out at the back of another building. We were in a pretty populated area in Tornio, you couldn't expect much more. "So, we are friends, right?"

I nod. Of course we were friends! What else would we be? I know I can be really dismissive of him, but that was mostly because I was a pretty busy employee here. Not like I had anything against him. Maybe he was assuming that my occasionally dismissive nature was meant in a serious way or something? I wanted to be friends with him though. Eduard was nice. And he was really the only friend I had who liked to socialize beyond a few choppy words. Sure, Berwald was nice, and I fancied him, but I can be honest with myself and recognize Eduard to be a better speaker. "Yeah."

"Good." He smiled, still staring out the window. I wonder why he bothers. Like I said, not much of a sight, unless you appreciated the back of a building. "I was just kinda... Worried that we weren't or something."

I cocked my head. Why would the thought that we were not even pass his mind? "Did I do something?"

A shake of his head preceded, and a slight pause. Like he was considering his next words really hard. "No... You just seem... Well, no, I am sure you don't mean it." He turned around, leaning on the high-set window pane. He looked serious, as serious as I had ever witnessed Eduard at least. "It is super hard to explain. It's all just over-speculation, really... But um... Well... I just worry you pity me."

It was almost impossible to hold in my laughter, but by some miracle, I managed. Me. Pity him? Let us get the facts straight, before anything.

Here he was, Eduard Von Bock. Only son of unreasonably rich parents. Super smart. Fairly attractive. The man who screamed privilege. Why would teenage runaway, ex-thief me pity that? I'd kill for a life like that, so easy. And it sounded like his parents didn't abuse him. They left him away for months on end, that was evident, but that wasn't exactly abuse when they left him with all the money he could care to spend on room service.

"I don't pity you at all." Was what I managed to spit up as a response.

His eyes fell on me. I couldn't tell where he was looking exactly, be it my eyes or just my face in general, but it was me. Which wasn't really strange, he was talking to me. I just noticed it. "You sure?"

I nod. I am positive of that.

"That is good." The blonde managed to conjure up a smile, which was reassuring. It made the mood less awkward and tense. Which, no offense to him, was a feeling that always seem to creep up on me whilst in his presence. I got the impression that he was trying very hard to show off around me, or perhaps he just was wired to show off in front of everyone? All I knew was that he got awful boasty whenever I spoke to him. Telling me tales of extravagant vacations, expensive things he had back home. It made me a little bitter, but he was my friend, so I let it pass. But I had nothing to call mine permanently, save for my journal. And he... He had it all.

An awkward silence prevailed between us for a moment. His smile did not last long, and he seemed to quiver. The air was tense again... Great. Would he expect me to break yet another very uncomfortable silence? I was getting quite sick of-

"Do you like anyone?"

I actually would have much rather preferred breaking the silence myself, and I only realized that when those shaken words escaped his lips.


End file.
